The Oncoming Storm
by BritishAlien
Summary: The Time War is in its infancy. Barely a shot has been fired. The Doctor crash lands on the most dangerous planet of them all and becomes aware that the universe does not require a Doctor anymore.


'He's dead?'

'I heard he begged for mercy.'

'I heard he killed himself.'

'Well, however he died, it's for the best.'

The flicker of gossip spread its light over the settlement. The rumours had been growing since the box had been spotted on the outer hills and hastily put on the back of a transporter, a tarpaulin thrown over it, and carried away never to be seen again. All they knew for certain was that the Doctor had fallen out of the sky some eight weeks previously. Then there had been a void of news which the rumours happily filled. Now he was dead. The Doctor was dead.

-x-x-x-

_Eight weeks and two days earlier…_

The TARDIS had been acting strangely for about a month. Normally, whenever the Doctor's mind enlightened him with information about the exact destination of the only man in the universe to have survived the Big Bang or the coordinates to the restaurant which made the best soufflés in the Philistine galaxy, he would end up in the middle of a battlefield or in Yorkshire or something. In recent times, however, wherever the Doctor could think of and wish to go, the TARDIS had flown him straight there. Everything had been exactly how it was meant to be. He relished the experience of having a seemingly functioning TARDIS, even if the chameleon circuit remained bust for all of eternity. That he could deal with. A period of bliss came over the old girl. Sure, the Doctor would end up in the same life threatening situations, but at least the intentions for his visits were meant well.

Then after a month or so of perfect flight, the TARDIS began to scream. The mechanisms moaned and screeched for hours filling the console room with horror. The Doctor had tried to do whatever he could to calm the ship. Every button had been pressed, every lever thrust down into its origin in the console, but it was all to no avail. The cries of his ship broke out all over console room, driving the Doctor to his knees. He ran to the doors leading to the outside world. He needed to get out. He didn't care where the doors opened out to, all he knew was that it would be better than hearing his TARDIS in agony. But the doors would not open. They remained sealed. The Doctor tried to tease the edges of the doors apart with his finger nails. He fell to his knees. The screaming was beginning to pull at his muscles. He ached. He could hear his breathing quicken and he could feel his heart beat in his ears. The console room lights flashed between light and dark. One moment, it burnt his eyes and the next, the room was plunged into blackness. He tore off his long Victorian coat as he felt it was restricting movement and flung it at the console. 'GAH!' He shouted as the shriek became louder and his attempts to escape became more futile. After no progress was made, the Doctor gave into despair and began clawing at the doors.

'Let me out!' He whispered under his heavy breath, staring down at the floor. Then with an unbelievable sense of urgency, he pulled himself up from his knees and stood. He turned to face the console room which was still wrapped in torment. 'LET ME OUT!'

Suddenly, the screaming stopped.

The silence drowned the room. It crushed the screaming and forced it to leave. Without being aware of anything else being in the room, the Doctor felt something grab hold of his shoulder. He froze at the touch, knowing that he was alone in the TARDIS. Well, in that part of the TARDIS. He didn't like to think what lay beyond the barriers he set for himself back when he left Gallifrey. A wave of feeling and a single sentence began to wash over him.

'I'm sorry.' It whispered in his ear. The hand let go. Sorry? What was happening? But the Doctor was not allowed a moments peace before he felt the TARDIS fall. Like the feeling of a lift when it drops, the ship fell. The sensation appeared to last forever. He plummeted to the floor and was forced to lay flat, pushed down by a ceaseless gravity. The Doctor clung to the gangway of the TARDIS, grabbing tight so that whatever the ship hit, whenever it did, he would not go sliding into anything.

'_Warning. TARDIS crash landing procedure initiating. Count down to planet impact. 10…9…8…7…'_

'No. You can't! We can't crash land…'

'_6…5…4…'_

'This can't be how it…'

'_3…2….1…I'm sorry.'_

Then the darkness consumed the TARDIS. It was the beginning of the end.

-x-x-x-

_Eight weeks and two days later…_

He had been wrestled into a primitive wooden chair, cobbled together with the haggard bark of dead trees and rusting nails, freshly torn from the broken landscape. They had strapped him down with leather belts and silver buckles. Other pieces of cloth restrained the rest of his body so that the only movement allowed to the Time Lord was the turn of his head. Those who had bound him had their faces covered and all the Doctor had seen was their eyes beneath the coloured cloth of their veils. They had left him to exhaust himself as he tried to tear at the straps which confined him, but soon he accepted that his struggling was just dissipating into wasted energy. His long hair was damp with sweat and he could feel his muscles as their ache forced him into acceptance of the situation. He slouched to the extent that the harness allowed him and scanned his surroundings.

He was in a small dark room. It was about the size that people imagined inhabited the TARDIS before they stepped through the doors and witnessed the first of its many secrets. The space looked as if it had been chiselled out of the brown rocks that made up most of the planet's surface. A few candle flames fled over the cracked rock faces. In front of him was a board of some kind with a black cloth of simple fabric draped over it. A candle sat on either side, burning time away as the red wax dropped onto the rocks and solidified. He turned his head to the furthest extent and found that shielding the entrance to the small cave was a red curtain tacked to the rock by one nail and hooked over another on the opposite side of the entrance. There was no light entering the gaps of the curtains. The Doctor couldn't even determine what time of day it was. His pocket watch was lodged firmly within the inside of his Victorian jacket which he had discarded all that time ago, whilst his ordinary leather one had the face pointing towards the wood of the chair. It could have been any time, but it felt like forever.

Suddenly, a noise lifted his spirits when a quiet whispering could be heard from outside. He leaned his head back as far as the top of the chair would allow him, but the voices did not become more distinct. One was authoritative whilst the other was subservient. One ordered, one obeyed. The Doctor tried again to pull at the harnesses as he heard footsteps approaching. The curtain was taken from one of the nails on the door and allowed to drop to one side of the entrance. The Doctor could sense that both speakers were standing behind him.

'At last. I've been here for ages. I'll complain to your superiors. Not even leaving me with a cup of tea or a little ham sandwich. What is this place coming to, I ask you?' The Doctor tried to make light of the situation but was promptly stopped when he felt a hand with long finger nails delve into his mass of hair. The hand grasped his head and then pulled its way back and through the waves of thick brown hair. The process was repeated several times with the Doctor becoming even more annoyed. Finally, the hand pulled away from his head completely and the figure reached past the Doctor and held the edge of the black cloth which covered the board in front of him. The hand ripped the fabric away and disposed of it out of the Doctor's sight. Behind the cloth there was a mirror and now the Doctor could see the two beings who accompanied him. One of them was like those who had tied him down. Every bit of skin was covered by coloured cloth, allowing a thin slit through which the eyes could pierce. The other was, however, openly showing her face t the world. She had thick brown hair which reached her shoulders. Her face was jagged and old and her blue eyes pierced his own, whilst the deep red lipstick brought the Doctor's attention to her mouth. The woman placed her hands on his shoulders. They were thin and the nails were a similar colour to her lips.

'I don't think much of your massages. I'd like my money back.'

'Silence, Doctor. Your witty little comments can't save you now.'

'No, but they help lessen the tension.' The Doctor looked down at the straps, but the woman did not get the hint. Instead, she nodded to the veiled figure who promptly left the room, replacing the red curtain behind her.

'Why are you here?' The woman demanded. Her voice was proud and deep. He felt like he could hear her teeth come together as they ate up her words.

'As I have repeated in every single interview over the last few weeks, I crash landed here. My ship dragged me down to this planet and beached herself. I couldn't move her. All the instruments were denying me the information I required so I climbed out only to be confronted by the girl who led me to you. Then you know what happened to me. I was frisked for weapons and then placed in the cell in which I have spent approximately eight weeks and two days wondering why all my protestations were not listened to. I am not here to hurt you, I am here by accident and if you will just let me loose, I will go back to my TARDIS and fly away.' Or try at least. He had no idea what state the TARDIS would be in now.

There was silence.

'That is not possible.' She spat at him, but refusing to allow him eye contact through the mirror.

'Everything's possible.' He smirked, flashing her his best winning smile. The woman's thin smile crept across her face and her eyes became smaller. She removed her hands from his shoulders and looked down at her feet. She chuckled slyly.

'You should be grateful.' She announced.

'For nearly two months, you have me trapped in a cell no bigger than this room. Gratitude is not the first feeling which comes to mind. Mistrust springs to mind.' He watched her reactions like a Ionian hawk. Unblinking.

'We have kept you hidden. Not trapped. Hiding you required you to be out of the loop, so to speak.' She admitted. The Doctor's eyebrows furrowed.

'Why would I need to hide?' He said, turning his head out of intrigue. He pulled at the straps again, but still it was no use.

'You don't know where you are?' The woman's eyes were filled with concern.

'As I have been saying for eight weeks and two days.' The woman did not want to answer. How could he not have known? This place had a sickness about it. A sickness which had been spread across the universe and was as recognisable as the cries of the birds which wheeled in the sky. It was impossible for him not to know. She saw the intrigue in his eyes. This was going to break his hearts.

'You are on Skaro.'The Doctor stared into her eyes. There had not been a flicker of a lie. She was telling the truth. The Doctor shuddered. Trying to tear himself out of the harness with renewed vigour.

'Calm down. You're safe.' She said trying to restrain him further by holding his head firm. He was angry. He had been kept on Skaro for just over two months. He had been out of control and angry. He had been forced to live as a prisoner on the home planet of the Daleks without means of escape and he was meant to be grateful.

'I am not safe whilst I am on Skaro. Anybody who is not Dalek is not safe on Skaro.' He implored his captor. His eyes flashed between hers and the leather straps.

'You are safe while you are with us.'

'Who is 'us'? How do I know you won't hand me over to them? How can I trust you?' The Doctor spat. It was only the modicum of hope in his weary hearts which allowed him to remain somewhat calm. Otherwise, he could feel this urge inside him to leap from the seat and force her against the wall, demanding answers.

'We haven't handed you in and neither do we intend to. We have kept you hidden while the rumours that a Time Lord - and not just any old Time Lord, but the Doctor - had landed on Skaro were taking hold. We're many miles out from the Dalek base camps. This small settlement is a worker colony. The Daleks still need humanoid creatures to work for them, but their tendency to see anything but Dalek as scum enables us to be on the other side of the world. When they heard the rumours that a TARDIS had crash landed and that it might have been you, well…they came looking. It took them a few days to get here, by which time your TARDIS was gone and you had entered out custody. The Daleks rounded up a few citizens and killed them. Just for good show.' She was appalled at her own words. Laced in hatred, the story of the great Doctor being saved had cost the lives of innocents. It needed to be worth it.

'My TARDIS is gone?' The Doctor asked, having calmed down a great deal after being equipped with the full facts.

'She's in one of our warehouses. She's battered and bruised, but she's still breathing.' The Doctor sighed with pure relief at the woman's words. Also, he realised that the woman spoke of the TARDIS as a 'she'. It showed a deeper understanding of what was at hand. There was more to this chance meeting than met the eye.

'You know who I am, don't you?' The Doctor finally spoke after a long silence.

'You have been to Skaro so many times in so many incarnations and thwarted the Dalek's most destructive turns. Your name burns at the centre of Dalek hatred. The Oncoming Storm. You strike fear into the Daleks like no other being. Of course we know who you are. You give us hope.' Her voice was kinder. There was hope in it. The Doctor felt a stab at his hearts. Here was the real reason he had been kept. Yes, his imprisonment had been to keep him safe, but safe for a higher purpose. It had been a year or so in the Doctor's personal timeline since the Declaration of the last Great Time War had been called. In that year, the two sides had been amassing troops and weaponry. The Doctor had heard of Time Lords having secret meetings about the potential for the manipulation of time. How could it be turned to obey them in the fight against, in their eyes, pure evil? The Moment was being forged as he breathed and physical battle was imminent. This was not a time for hope. It was a time for cruelty and murderous abandon. Destruction would rule for a long time before both sides could step back and assess the damage. Times like this had to happen. They could not be averted. People just had to find a way to live through it.

'I am not the man to be giving you hope. The Time War is in its infancy. The blows that wrack the skies will only get worse and more desperate as time goes on. Nobody can win this war. Nobody is strong enough!' The Doctor implored. He could feel his voice raising.

'You are the Doctor. The man whose name lights not just the hatred of the Daleks, but it burns at the centre of time. You have helped so many and are destined to help so many more…'

'I help where I can, but I cannot end this.' The Doctor insisted.

'Everything's possible.' The Doctor hated how she twisted his words.

'Not this. Time cannot be rewritten. This is a time that we must all just try to survive. Then…at some later point, we will be able to look back and see what terror we allowed to enter our hearts. That time is not now. We must surrender to it or be consumed by a horror that is too terrible to contemplate. We must live in darkness so that we can one day walk back into the light and let it blind us for we will not deserve to revel in that glory. We shall turn into shadows knowing what darkness we committed our lives to all in the name of good. That is our future. That is the time we must look to. It isn't a positive future, but it's the only certainty.'

'Where did all that heart go, Doctor? All that strength? There are stories of you dating back generations. The great Doctor. The Oncoming Storm. You have wiped out the Daleks over and over again and now as war comes to the boil you refuse to feast.' Her tone was taunting, but the Doctor would not give into her.

'I CANNOT END THIS!' The Doctor shouted shaking the chair a bit as the rage in his hearts burst free. The woman stayed silent, watching the Time Lord with sheer contempt. Maybe it would have been better to let the Daleks find him.

'Then we have no choice. We will facilitate your departure from Skaro. If you refuse to help then what hope is there. Leave this planet and do not return until you can help.' She spat. Her words dripped with disappointment.

'How am I to get to my TARDIS without being seen?' He wasn't going to apologise to her. He couldn't. Nothing that he said would help.

'That's why you are bound. You are recognisable. Those clothes. We can give you some scraps which are no longer of use. Oh, but that hair. So long and free. We'll need to change that.' A sly smile crept across her face as the woman turned to the curtain and beckoned for the other girl to enter. The cloaked figure did so, carrying something in her hands. The chair on which the Doctor was tied obscured his view.

'Who are you?' The Doctor said, addressing the hidden one.

'Her name is Delilah and she is going to cut your hair.' The woman announced before the girl could mutter a word. The Doctor's eyes grew wide as the woman smiled, drawing a strip of red fabric from her clothes and placed it into the Doctor's mouth. The woman forced his head down so that he couldn't bite back. His teeth were clenched around the red cloth as the woman tied a knot tightly at the base of his neck. The Doctor was gagged. With one last look at him before leaving, the woman smiled. She draped the curtain back into place and the Doctor was left with Delilah.

The girl was breathing heavily as she held the knife in her hands. She grabbed fistfuls of hair, yanking the Doctor's head back and smacking his neck into the coarse wooden chair. He could feel bruising as it threatened, bubbling under the skin. Bit by bit, the Doctor felt huge clumps of his hair raggedly torn from his scalp. At first, as each lock was finely cut free, he watched in the mirror as the girl allowed the hair to fall to the floor. Yet, as she got closer to the skull, the girl became more frenzied and controlling. Any movement the Doctor dared to make was threatened with a more vicious flourish of the knife as it tore at his hair. His once smooth long hair resembled arid wasteland atop his head. There were tufts longer than the other, sticking out in all manner of directions. Within minutes, the dapper Doctor was gone. A new man stared him in the eyes. The girl tore at the last offending strand of hair only to look the Doctor straight in the eyes. Even under her veil, the Doctor could see her smile. She turned away from him quickly and left the cave. The Doctor was alone.

He stared at the man in the mirror. He could not believe how much change he could determine in his own face. There had been no regeneration and yet he felt like he was a different man altogether. He knew what he had to do. He had to embrace the universe of the Time War. His travels were no longer to be conducted in a safe universe where he may come and go as he pleased. He put these people's lives at risk and he could not stop what was coming. He had to accept that the universe was much more dangerous and he had to live within those parameters. With the cutting of his hair and the change it brought about his demeanour, he felt like a new part of this life had begun. He did not embody the foppery. He was no longer the hero. He was becoming less and less of himself by the day. The universe was changing what it meant to be the Doctor and he could feel that soon, even that title would be ripped from him. He knew now why he was called the Oncoming Storm. Him coming to Skaro was only the beginning. Before he had crashed, the storm was yet to make itself known and when it did, all of time and space would be torn apart without mercy and without love. The Time War was coming. The Storm had begun.


End file.
